


ShockBlurr Drabbles

by dva_infinity



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 18:13:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3987883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dva_infinity/pseuds/dva_infinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of largely unedited ShockBlurr drabbles that are too short for one shots etc. Specific warnings and ratings will be listed by chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Red Light (M)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting so please be patient while I work things out! This drabble is actually the first one I wrote for this pairing so... 8)'' If you've got any comments, feel free to hit me up!

## Chapter 1: Red Light

###### Warnings: implied harm, mildly dubious consent, tentacles/data cables. Not sticky sex, not quite plug 'n play either.  
Mildly AU: Intel agents all modified with data cables. Because tentacles.

Blurr groaned softly as Longarm's lips raised soft sparks over his neck cables, the stocky mech's servos resting firmly on the racer's hips. Part of Blurr's processor told him this was a dream; he'd been damaged, could nearly feel the burning ache of his circuits if he tried, but... Why would he want to focus on that when in his dream, Longarm was coaxing his side panels open with strong fingers? When he was stroking Blurr's data cables as they emerged and murmuring soft, sweet praise against his helm?

The new agent ran his fingertips over the subtle ridges on those tendrils, his blue optics shining in delight as Blurr moaned, writhing against him in the dark. The only light in the room, aside from the flickering glow of Blurr's own biolights, fritzing in their owner's desire, was the strong, steady red gleam of Longarm's sensor array. 

Longarm's fingers, edged in crimson as they teased the racer's data prongs. Blurr framed in light as his servos scrambled to find a place to hold on, anywhere, as charge skittered through his frame--oddly familiar, but so, so much better--and edged up, desperate lips finding that beautiful sensor, that deep, scarlet star as he gasped in overload, falling back in a haze of warm, red light.


	2. No Good Deed (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blurr takes one last run before summer break ends. But there's something strange on the beach, and he can't help but investigate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A semi-gift for [Cytokiine](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cytokiine)!  
> This mer!Shockwave is inspired by [Hamfootsia's](http://hamfootsia.tumblr.com/tagged/mermechs) gorrrgeous lovely mermech Shocky. Mmm. Love dat Shockwave. But with some kelpie thrown in for fun.  
> Blurr, Rodimus and Drift are in college, not high school.  
> Anywho, check the chapter tags. And enjoy!  
> 

## Chapter 2: No Good Deed

###### Warnings: abduction, near drowning, unhealthy relationship, implied stalking & threatened harm/ threatened vore.  
AU: merformers & humanformers

_Beep beep beep beep bee-_

Blurr groped for his phone, rubbing his eyes and blinking at the time.

6AM. Already. 

Groaning, he rolled off the couch, glancing at Rodimus and Drift--one splayed on the bed, the other on a mostly-flat air mattress, both snoring--before he dug into his messy bag in the corner. Five minutes later, he was sneaking out the door and bounding off down the wooden stairs, zipping his jacket up as he went. 

It might be summer, but the beach was still chilly this early. Cool air rolled in off the waves, rustling the reedy grasses along the path Blurr knew by heart; he’d jogged down it every morning of summer break, after all. Soon they’d all have to go back to their classes, back to the city. His daily run would be back on paved roads, nose filled with exhaust instead of a fresh, salty breeze, no more soft, white sand under his feet. 

He’d miss it. 

He crested the sandy hill and paused, stretching, reaching for the sky, bending down to touch his toes, inhaling deep and slow as the sun glimmered on the steely waves and gulls called overhead. 

No one else was ever out here this early. Although it helped that this crescent of beach was technically private. 

Sliding down the sand, he set off at an easy pace. The beach was littered with fresh shells and ribbons of seaweed that had washed up in the night and Blurr wove around them all, following the familiar curve of the beach. Clambering up the rocks at the end was easy. He could probably have done it in his sleep by now, jumping up one side and slipping down the other, but this morning, he paused at the top. 

There was something beached on the sand up ahead. Something… well, something massive for one, but also something he couldn’t identify. And whatever it was, it wasn’t moving. 

Cautiously, Blurr climbed down the rock pile, eyes fixed on the creature. More became clear as he got closer. Its skin was dark and slick. Fins jutted out at odds angles from its back and down along its long, sinuous tail. It looked like there were rough, coral-like horns sprouting from its neck. 

And the sand beneath it was dark red. 

Blurr swore. He ran closer, skidding to a stop in the wet sand, worry only growing as the waves lapping at its body came away pink with blood. There was faint movement along its sides--gills, he realized--and without hesitation, he reached out, running his fingers over its smooth skin. 

It purred. 

There was no other word for it. Blurr stood frozen, staring at the massive creature for a second before his thoughts snapped back in order. He scrambled around it, past its horned head, stepping over its finned arms and bent down, inhaling sharply at the sight of long, raking claw marks in its dark flesh. When he finally looked up, it was watching him. It had a single eye, round and bright, toxic red, its pupil a narrow slit as the sun rose. And then it moved. Weakly, it lifted an arm, raising claws sharp as razors and… ran them down Blurr’s back. So gentle he would have called it a caress. 

The creature purred again, a soothing rumble from its chest, and all Blurr could do was stare at it in wonder. It smelled like salt and waves and the tang of blood, those claws could probably slash much bigger things than a shark in two with ease. Yet here it was, wounded and docile in the sand and petting him. 

Shaking himself, Blurr stood. 

The sun was rising. If it stayed beached, it would die. 

He was tiny next to it, its claws big enough to fold around him with ease, but he was determined. Already its optic seemed less focused as he walked around to its back. Setting his shoulder against it, Blurr pushed. His feet slid in the wet sand, trying to get traction, trying to move it or get it to move, anything. Fortunately, it caught on. 

Together, they managed to shove and flop it back into the waves. First into the foam, its fins flaring in eagerness. Then further, until Blurr was knee-deep and struggling to stay upright at all, let alone help it into deeper water. His arm was pressed against its skin, holding it tight, smiling as the water came up to his waist and it turned, looking up at him from under the waves.

The current shifted and Blurr stumbled. Its claws snapped tight around him, yanking him close before he even had a chance to scream. It crushed him against its chest, tail rocketing them out into deep water as Blurr struggled, reaching for the shimmering light of the surface as his lungs burned. But its skin stuck to him like tar. The harder he fought, the deeper it pulled him in. 

The creature was still purring. 

It ran those scythes down its prize’s trembling back, tender and sweet. So pleased. After so long watching and waiting, the little human was finally theirs. 

They’d felt him longing for the ocean. The sadness that had hung around him lately when he'd returned to that little cabin on the dunes. 

Now he'd never have to leave again. 

He would learn to love them. 

And if he refused, well... Their gaze drifted to the sea floor, littered with bones.

There were plenty of ways to get rid of an ungrateful human. 


	3. He's Not Listening (E)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cliffjumper has a feeling Longarm Prime isn't paying much attention to his reports today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we're bumped up to an E rating for the drabble collection. Oops.  
> I couldn't help it, I love this trope. I'd say my friends pushed me into it but. They didn't. They didn't even have to nudge me into it to be honest. ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ

## Chapter 3: He's Not Listening

###### Warnings: sticky sex, oral sex, mild physical restraint, interrupted/seriously guys don't do it in the office  
This is not very serious/Shockwave is a shitlord.

  


“-Prime, sir, are you listening?” 

Longarm blinked. His false optics focused on Cliffjumper--his ever-so-patient secretary sighing, tapping a foot as subtly as he could get away with--as Longarm gave him his most reassuring smile. Manipulating this form was easy by now, but, well... Sometimes even he could be distracted. 

“My apologies, Cliffjumper. It has been a long decacycle for us all, it would seem,” he apologized smoothly, clasping both hands on his desk in front of him. His true optic’s view flickered down onto them and he resisted the urge to cringe. 

Hopefully his secretary wouldn’t notice the lingering saliva on his fingertips. 

He coughed, picking up one of the many data pads Cliffjumper had brought in with him and scrolled through it, sinking smoothly back into his work. They were all routine reports, at least to him. The stirrings of Decepticon activity on the edges of Autobot space came as no surprise to Shockwave, but Longarm had to look suitably concerned. There wouldn’t be any real activity for a few more stellar cycles, but the faster he satisfied Cliffjumper, the faster he could go back to openly enjoying Blurr’s quick mouth and fingers on his spike. 

The agent had only just taken him into his throat, Longarm sighing in bliss at the lovely warmth, the tightness of it, when Cliffjumper had knocked. Blurr had almost rocketed straight up through the desk. He would have at least made an utter mess of things if Longarm hadn’t quickly clamped his thighs on either side of his head, motioning with a devious wink for him to stay quiet. More time to relish the stunned wideness of his optics, the deepening flush of his face would have been lovely, but he’d had to arrange himself the very next second. He’d greeted Cliffjumper politely and tried not to shift too much as he prattled on and Blurr’s drool dribbled out around his spike. 

Blurr swallowed, throat flexing around him. Longarm was very, deeply grateful there was both a computer and data pad between his face and his secretary’s at that moment. The sensation was honestly incredibly distracting; it would have been easier to let Blurr pull off, let him curl up and tremble in the tiny space. 

But this... this was so much better. His illicit affair hidden only behind a tiny desk, his favorite agent trapped on his knees between his legs gasping silently around his spike. Probably even with his own spike bared and dripping. Blurr did so enjoy servicing his kind, gentle boss, after all.

It would be so easy for them to be exposed. Blurr knew it too; he could feel his agent’s sparkbeat pulsing frantically through his frame. That alone was enough to send youthful glee crackling through Shockwave’s processor. 

He squeezed his thighs gently around Blurr’s helm as he refocused on the reports. Cliffjumper had resumed, detailing several more minor discoveries to him before he seemed to finish, nodding curtly. 

“That will be all for now, sir. If you have any unaddressed concerns, you know where to find me.” 

His work done, Cliffjumper turned to the door, fiddling with his data pads once more. Longarm slid one hand to his lap and brushed Blurr’s cheek with a thumb, soothing his agent before he rasped his dull fingertips along Blurr’s crest. Normally the gesture would be enough to make Blurr moan but with the secretary still in the room, his throat tightened around him instead, fluttering as he silently choked down his own noises. Longarm fought back a satisfied smirk, focusing on appearing preoccupied with the worry a Prime of the Intel Agency would show at rising Decepticon activity, however small. 

Which was good, as Cliffjumper had turned around. And was giving him that look. 

Seeming to drag himself out of introspection and definitely not out of the preoccupation of nimble fingers diving into his seams in revenge, Longarm smiled at him. 

“You had something else to report, Cliffjumper?” 

The red mech shifted, rubbing a hand on his helm. He even cleared his vocalizer twice. 

“Well Longarm Prime sir, it’s only. I know Agent Blurr came in to report to you, but I… didn’t see him come out. I find myself wondering where he could have gotten to-” Longarm chose that moment to press Blurr’s head down. His patient, angelic smile widened as Blurr tried not to choke or bang his crest on the desk. “-since it appears he is not here any longer.” 

Cocking his head, Longarm just shrugged in response. He ignored Cliffjumper’s cough, his pointed glance at his desk. So the secretary suspected, hm? 

“You must have missed him. He is rather fast, after all, when he has a goal in mind, and well… Confidentially,” he said, lowering his voice to just above a whisper. “I admit even I sometimes have difficulties keeping up with the _mouth_ on that one.” 

Face as innocent as ever, Longarm simply pretended to miss whatever reason his secretary had to lapse into a coughing fit, waving him out patiently as ever and turning back to his work. Perhaps that had been foolish, but as the door closed behind his fleeing worker, the look on Blurr’s face was absolutely worth it.


	4. Not What You Imagined (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blurr didn’t find out about Shockwave until he’d been back online for nearly a stellar cycle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! Hit a bit of a slump, so here's a chunk of a story that was originally gonna be a few chapters published on their own, buuuut. Right now I'm not sure if it'll ever go anywhere and it's either I post this or something shameful as hell so. This one it is! Featuring Sentinel being dumb because... that's what he does. This was headed some nasty places but I. Think it was pretty heavily inspired by two other fics I've read so yeah, the future of this one is a bit ?????
> 
> I think the original idea that sparked this came from [a set rail-way drew on tumblr](http://rail-way.tumblr.com/post/98133099236/demands-from-hasbro-there-be-a-comic-focusing-on) with a way cute Blurr. 
> 
> This was to be the intro chapter. Enjoy! ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ

## Chapter 4: Not What You Imagined

###### Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Past Relationships (if I missed something please let me know)

Blurr didn’t find out about Shockwave until he’d been back online for nearly a stellar cycle.

Well, not quite. The first words from his new vocalizer had been a frantic warning about _Longarm Prime_ \--of all bots why did it have to be Longarm?--being a Decepticon spy in disguise. But the medics had just hushed him back onto the table. 

_Shockwave won’t be a problem anymore_ , they’d said. _Taken care of stellar cycles ago_. 

Blurr had been too distracted finding out how long he’d been offline to think of what they’d said. It was shameful, depressing, to find out how long it’d taken someone to realize he was even missing. Two orbital cycles after that to find the cube, the mention of which alone was enough to send the racer into a horrible panic. Walls crushing in on him, snapping struts and plating, lines bursting as he screamed all too fresh in his memory. It had taken literal stellar cycles of work after that to pull his flickering spark and miraculously intact processor from his crumpled shell and piece something of a new body together. 

It wasn’t all that bad, but it didn’t feel right. His spark felt strange, like it wanted nothing more than to jump out of it for the first few solar cycles. His helm had the biggest visible difference: two wing shaped crests on either side of his salvaged and visibly-welded sensory one. If he hadn’t felt so grateful for still being online after seeing the cube that had been him when he’d arrived, he would have had some sharp words for whatever medic had decided to slap _wings_ on his helm. But his paint was the same blue, his new frame coloured as like his original as it could be. Within a deca-cycle he was back on the tracks at full speed, and welcomed back as an Intel agent shortly after. 

All things considered, things were going well for the little racer. 

He’d hardly had time to settle into his new office when Sentinel tried having him arrested. Part of him understood why, but that didn’t stop him from being utterly outraged as he stood in court, accused of conspiracy. Of being part of the traitor Longarm’s plan. 

It turned out someone had learned of his real relationship with the Prime. They wouldn’t tell how they’d found out. That part had bothered him. After all, the one perk at the time of discretely meeting up with the Prime of the Intelligence Agency had been a convenient tendency for evidence of their trysts to go missing, and it wasn’t as though Blurr himself was chatting about it. Fortunately, his fellow agents had come to his defense. 

While there was no physical evidence of Blurr’s involvement with his old boss, there was a very convincing video record of Longarm morphing to Shockwave, doing his best to offline him with bolt after bolt. The racer hadn’t been able to watch the other one after he’d glimpsed the hallway, but his recorded screams, the telltale crunch of metal, the horrified gasps of those watching told more than enough. For everyone, apparently. As far as they knew, putting your co-conspirator through a compactor wasn’t considered romantic or productive even by Decepticon standards. 

He had walked out weeks later, Cliffjumper and Mirage on either side, all of their faces looking similarly worn but relieved. Blurr had been cleared, but it had still been a scandal. Even if he hadn’t known Longarm Prime’s true identity, they’d still insisted on attempting to have him expelled from the Agency. Ultimately, none of it stuck. The Elite Guard insignia still shone on his chest, even brighter than it had before. Blurr insisted he simply appreciated it more after his ordeal, but really he just couldn’t resist the spark of glee that surged through him whenever Sentinel saw it glinting in the sunlight.

And since then, Longarm… Shockwave hadn’t come up. He’d done his best to put the Prime, the traitor, behind him. Admittedly the trial had helped, in that regard, for all the whispers it caused afterwards, but any mech foolish enough to try using it against Blurr quickly learned exactly why it was a terrible idea. They didn’t need to know about the memories of his time with his almost-bondmate that ripped him from recharge, leaving him on edge and snippy for days to come. How he was plagued, replaying old conversations in his processor, re-examining every word Longarm had said, every promise that had fallen from his lips while his real optic had glimmered from above. All the while questioning why. _How could any mech, even a Decepticon, do such a thing?_

No one had to know. Not even Rung. 

Then, one day, Blurr had watched the records. He couldn’t focus, antsy and low on recharge, and had decided to catch up on what he had missed in his stellar cycles as a cube. Omega Supreme landing on Cybertron was no surprise; after all, it was hard to be in the Elite Guard and not have noticed the ship-sized mech lumbering around. Optimus Prime stepping out with Megatron in cuffs behind him he had expected. Blitzwing had been a mild surprise, but Blurr had jolted straight up in his chair when he saw a shining red optic and then. Shockwave had stepped out. There were heavy statis shackles around his servos and he had moved slowly, far slower than Blurr knew he could move. But that wasn’t so important. 

Blurr had returned to his habsuite as quickly as he could after that, his processor moving too fast for even him to keep up as he paced. 

Shockwave was still online. 

Shockwave was on _Cybertron_. 

In prison, true, but. The mech that had led Blurr on, feigned adoration for for years, used the agent to push himself up the ranks, assassinated Highbrow, and then. And then had tried to offline his “lover” with his own foul claws, shoved his remains down into some Primus-forsaken tunnel while he knew his spark still beat. 

Blurr stilled, trembling. Looking down at his fingers. Too new now. Lacking the earned scuffs of years and years in the field. A frame that would never feel quite right, that made him look like a fresh-sparked mech instead of a seasoned agent. 

He had lost too much time to Shockwave. Whatever treatment that scum was getting, it was far too generous. 

Blurr would have to fix that.


End file.
